


The Legacy of Slytherin

by sgatalon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Family Drama, Family Feels, Hogwarts Founders - Freeform, The Deathly Hallows
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-13 15:35:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29528583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sgatalon/pseuds/sgatalon
Summary: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin.  These great names have been engraved in history for 1000 years, yet the only sure thing that remains of them is Hogwarts, a physical manifestation of the founders' ideals.  What truths were lost to time, and what truths were purposefully erased?  This will be a collection of moments in time leading up to a crux for all wizarding-kind.
Kudos: 6





	1. Nuptials

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome! If you've come from Harry Potter & the Floating City, thanks for reading! This will tie into the crossover eventually, but Toneth and I have written this to be a standalone piece as well. This is a lot of the headcanon that we've developed on our own, and decided to share with the world!
> 
> I think the founding of Hogwarts is one of the most interesting pieces of history in the series, and that Professor Binns was terrible for not covering. Maybe it's not his fault, though, his textbooks may not have gone back that far. In any case, I'm excited to release this one! Toneth and I have been working on it for quite some time alongside The Floating City, so I have a small backlog to update this one more regularly. I know I usually post longer chapters, but this will be shorter snippets. You've been warned!
> 
> Enjoy!

The tower room flickered with firelight, the soft orange glow pushing back the chill of winter and the inky dark that clung around the castle. Soft snow could just barely be seen piling against the stained glass window, and the light danced over the plush ruby tapestries, various battered side-arms, and trophies of battle that adorned the walls. Front and center to it all, a lion roared across the coat of arms hung over the mantle. Small magical instruments on a circular table at the room’s center clinked and chimed, softly breaking up the amicable quiet of the study. Godric sat at his formidable desk, polishing his favored blade with his feet up as he regarded the man seated before him.

“It’s a shame about your daughter,” he teased. “I’d always hoped to join our families, you know.”

The other man, relaxing in the crushed red velvet armchair, practically hissed as he took a sip from his wine goblet. “That boy of yours is far too headstrong for my Celeste. She found a far better match, if you ask me.” He stroked his beard as he gently tapped the signet ring on his index finger against the goblet. “More mature, at least.” He had both eyebrows raised at the red-bearded man.

“Bah! What’s a five-year age difference?” he cracked, brandishing the polishing cloth. “You and Rowena are nearly ten years my senior, and we all get along fine!”

“Perhaps, but Arthur is no where close to marrying age.”

“You just lack patience!”

Salazar chuckled at this, swirling the wine in his goblet. “Oh? Do I? I suppose the man who charged into a den of giants alone because he didn’t want to wait for backup would know impatience when he sees it.”

Godric flushed and planted his feet on the floor, leaning forward as he forgot about the intricate sword in his hands. “That was a calculated risk!” he insisted.

“Mm. If you say so,” Salazar relented with an unconvincing shrug.

Godric grumbled but could say no more; he always despised how Salazar could incite (and end) an argument with barely any consideration, but it was certainly a useful tool… when it was used in Gryffindor’s favor, of course. The man tried to hide the sour look on his face as he lifted the hilt of his sword to his eye, cleaning the small areas around the jewels. “So? Have they made wedding plans yet?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. Darling Celeste always wished to be married by the lake here on the Hogwarts grounds. If the other founders have no objections, they will be holding the ceremony this spring. Of course, I will also be adding my own touches to the festivities…” The green-robed man grinned as he twirled the longest part of his beard around his fingers.

“Ever the doting father, I see,” Godric sighed. “I’m sure the others have no objections. And you know how Helga loves organizing celebrations. Rowena is the only one to convince, but she will not fight it as long as the wedding doesn’t interfere with her year-end student evaluations.”

“Celeste wouldn’t have that. You know how dedicated she is to her practice. She would hate for her wedding to interfere with any of her learning.”

“Of course. Always a serious student, that one.” Both men grew quiet, each lost in their respective thoughts as they enjoyed the warmth of the fire. Godric, not one for too much quiet, spoke up first, laying his sword across his desk. “Tell me, Sal. Are you truly satisfied with your daughter’s betrothed?”

“I am.” The answer came quickly, with no hesitation. “Perhaps I would not have chosen him myself, but Celeste… She is in love. And he is devoted to her. I trust him to cherish and protect my daughter, because I know he values her happiness as much as I do.” Salazar downed the rest of his wine. Softly, he added, “Would I keep my daughter under my roof for the rest of my life if I could? Of course. But she would not be happy, and she deserves the opportunity to find it for herself.”

Godric shook his head. “You are a better man than I,” he whispered, almost reverent. “I don’t think I can bear to see my daughter married. It’s too much to think of another man taking her away!”

Salazar raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Your daughter is six.”

“Exactly why I cannot bear the thought of another man taking her to wife!” Salazar leveled his skeptical stare at his friend until the redhead had calmed enough to drop the subject. “You’ll see when she comes of age that I’m right!”

“Hrmph. In any case, it is long past my bedtime. I will make my proposals formally tomorrow.” Salazar stood and smoothed the front of his robes, gently resting his empty goblet on the large desk. “Thank you for listening to my concerns, friend.”

“Of course! It’s what good friends exist for.” Godric walked around to clap a jovial hand to the other man’s shoulder, eliciting a small grin from his friend. “Now, er… remind me. Your son-in-law-to-be. What was his name again?”

Salazar repressed a sigh, crossing his arms. “You never were good with names. He is one of Rowena’s students, so perhaps that is why you don’t remember him. Ansgard Peverell.”

“Ah, yes.” Godric grinned crookedly at his friend. “Unfortunate. Celeste Peverell doesn’t have quite the ring of Celeste Gryffindor, does it?”

With a deep frown, Salazar sent a scathing glance at the warrior-mage. With a flourish of his robes, he turned on his heel and exited the tower as proudly as he could with the booming laughter of Godric following him down the tower steps.


	2. Parting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one takes place in July, maybe about 5-6 months after chapter 1. Enjoy!

Ansgard Peverell hesitated at the grand entrance to the school he had spent his adolescence at. He was dressed for travel and ready for a long journey: he had made all necessary maintenance to his broomstick, his trunk was filled to bursting with his every possession, and his wand was tucked securely into a leather holster on his belt. He paced uneasily, brushing back the long black bangs left unsecured by his ponytail as he squinted, the late summer sunset blooming blood red against his dark brown eyes.

“She should have been here by now…” he murmured.

The young man was ready to turn back inside when the door suddenly opened, thrust open by a young woman with curled chestnut hair. Her clothing was fine, with many small gems and intricate embroidery sewn onto the bodice of her gray summer gown and what Ansgard knew to be real emeralds adorning the clasp of her cloak. The door politely closed itself behind her as she threw herself into the arms of her newlywed husband. Easily, he lifted his wife into an embrace and swung her around, laughing.

“I almost thought you wouldn’t say goodbye!”

“Of course not! She was your head of house, you know how long-winded Master Ravenclaw gets in her lectures…” Her gray eyes sparkled as they looked into his and, after sharing a quick, giddy grin, they kissed, the time and place melting away as they delved into their own sort of private magic. After a spell, Ansgard groaned, reluctantly pulling away from Celeste’s lips.

“I wish you were joining me,” he breathed, hot desire fanning across his beloved’s lips.

“Me, too…” Celeste whispered, biting her lip and pulling herself tighter into his embrace. They remained still, clinging to each other for what felt like an hour. Neither cared, and Ansgard ignored the heavy protests of his arms in favor of holding Celeste as long as he could. The sun had already sunk down below the rolling mountains of the countryside by the time he gave up.

“You need to finish your studies. You wouldn’t be the woman I married if you didn’t.” He was unsure if he spoke to himself or Celeste. “Besides, I’d like for my beautiful wife to have a wonderful place to come home to,” he added with a warm smile.

“Oh, Ansgard… You know anyplace would feel like home as long as you’re there.” Celeste wrapped her arms around her husband once more, resting her head against his chest and listening to the steady beat of his heart. “I only wish it didn’t have to be a whole year…”

“Well, it was going to be three, but somehow you managed to convince the professors to let you advance the courses,” he reminded her with a crooked smile. Celeste looked up at him, a cute pout on her lightly-freckled face.

“You should have stayed an extra year,” she chided, eliciting a laugh from her husband.

“I’m already 18, Celeste, you know I can’t stay here unless I’m a teacher. And…” he trailed off, frowning as he tried to ignore to tinkling giggle beneath his chin.

“You are an awful teacher,” she agreed. Once her laughter died down, she said more seriously, “Write to me often, my love.”

“Every day,” Ansgard promised. “I’ll make sure to send you a gift for your birthday, too.”

“A birthday gift? What did you get for me?”

A chuckle. “It’s going to be a surprise, so of course I can’t tell you!” He grinned as Celeste pouted, knowing that once she saw the sixteen ever-blooming roses he had enchanted for her 16th birthday, she would be over the moon.

“You’re terribly cruel! …But I will miss you dreadfully, Ansgard.”

“I’ll miss you even more than that,” he stated, pulling her in for another kiss. More quickly than before, they separated. “I’ll make sure you don’t have to worry about our livelihood. Study to your heart’s content, and then we can live together and start our lives.”

“I will,” Celeste promised, standing tiptoe to deposit another kiss on her husband’s lips. “I’ll become a powerful witch you can be proud to call your wife.”

“Oh, I know it…” Ansgard smiled as he kissed Celeste. The sun was down totally now, only the barest hint of light left as a reminder of the day. Finally, they slipped apart, clasping hands briefly before reluctantly pulling away.

“Be safe, my love.”

“I will. I will write as soon as I find a suitable place to make our home.”

Celeste kissed her fingertips, gently blowing the kiss after Ansgard as he mounted his broom. “I love you.”

“And I you.” And with that, he kicked off the landing and soared into the darkened sky.


	3. Motherhood

“Happy birthday, my darling.” Ansgard produced a single ever-blooming rose, with a white bow tied around its stem.

“Ansgard… Thank you, love.” Gently, Celeste took the gift, delicately smelling the flower as she admired it. “By the time I am an old woman, I shall have an entire garden of these!”

“That’s rather the point. One beautiful rose for each beautiful year of your life you have lived.” Ansgard smiled and drew her close, careful of the large swell of her belly. They kissed, exchanging smiles as Celeste moved to place the rose on the dining table; just a thought and a drop of her magic left the flower standing perfectly straight without so much as a vase for support.

“Somehow I never realized how much of a romantic you were… Not that I’m complaining,” she said with a chuckle. She smoothed both hands over her pregnant form and her husband was quick to slide in behind her, placing his own hands over hers.

“You know,” he murmured in her ear, “I’ve made quite the name for myself as an enchanter. I can’t even remember how many magical objects I’ve been commissioned to make. But this…” He gave Celeste’s belly an affectionate rub. “This is the most magical thing I think can be produced in this world.”

Celeste laughed again, but the rose in her cheeks spoke to his flattery. “Women have been having babies for centuries. There’s nothing magical about it.”

Ansgard frowned. “Perhaps, but they weren’t having _my_ babies, so this is special.”

“Typical man.” Celeste flicked him on the chin and reached for her wand. “Just because it’s something you can’t do doesn’t make it a level of godliness.”

“...Ah. So, then you’ll be perfectly happy if I began treating you no different than ordinary, then?”

It was Celeste’s turn to frown as she faced her husband. “Well, I never said that.”

He grinned. “Then you shall let me continue to be awed by your motherly glow?”

“...I suppose,” Celeste relented through pursed lips. With a sigh, she flicked her wand and some fabric on a nearby table jumped to life, stitching itself together. Celeste watched for a moment to make sure the pattern was correct, then aimed another quick flick towards the washtub; the morning’s dishes began scrubbing and rinsing themselves.

“Hmm…” Ansgard rubbed his chin as he watched his wife go about setting the chores to complete by magic. She froze and turned to eye him suspiciously.

“What?”

“Well… It’s just that it’s not practical to expect you to carry a wand and the baby. Perhaps I can whip something up so you don’t have to constantly magic the house into order.”

“Or you could cast your own spells? I don’t mind, you know.”

“Oh, of course, but I _do_ travel for work rather often…”

“Ansgard, everything will be fine. I’m capable, I can manage.”

“Yes, yes, of course…”

Celeste shot a look at her husband, but knew that he was unaware at this point. It was just as when he had decided that dressing herself was too tedious a task after their bedroom rendezvous, so he decided to make her a wardrobe that automatically enchanted the clothes to dress their owner. The decadent contraption even picked out colors and styles that she preferred. _That man,_ she thought to herself.

They spent the rest of the day completing their various tasks: Ansgard moving to his workshop to continue completion of his commissions, Celeste tidying the house and preparing things for the arrival of their child. Through her magic, she had already made a large assortment of infant-sized garments, as well as blankets that had been spelled to keep the newest member of the family from being neither too hot nor too cold. Ansgard, in his extravagance, had spelled a beautiful bassinet to rock on its own should the babe wake during the night. And, of course, the biggest necessity to any magical household that was expecting children: nappies that automatically disposed of any waste as it was made. Truly, it was a marvel how anyone could manage at all without magic.

Finally, it was time for both to break for a much-needed dinner. Roast chicken and a cold berry soup was a delightful end to the balmy August day, and Ansgard and Celeste quickly fell into pleasant conversation, Ansgard describing the setbacks of his work while Celeste made gentle suggestions that the man lauded as pure brilliance, for he had not thought of them.

As Celeste brought out a cherry pie, she changed the subject. “Dearest, have you given any thought to a name?”

“Name? For what?” her husband asked obliviously, digging into his dessert.

“Our son.”

“...Ah. Of course. Well, to be honest… not really. I had rather forgotten that it’s up to the parents to choose a name…” he trailed off, taking another bite of pie to stall for time.

“Hmm.” Celeste was making a face at him.

“Um, not that I don’t want to choose a name… Well, it _is_ your birthday today, so why don’t you pick something?” He smiled, hoping to hide his panic, but it didn’t appear to work.

“In that case, there was a name I had in mind…”

“Oh?”

“What do you think of Antioch?”

“Antioch Peverell… That sounds perfect.” Ansgard gave a genuine smile to his wife this time.

“Well, then I suppose we shall be meeting little Antioch soon, won’t we?” Celeste ran her hand over the child within her, grinning ear to ear.


	4. Family Magic

“I’m so sorry, Father… I really didn’t want to have to burden you with this, but--”

“It’s really quite all right. Truthfully, I expected you to bring the little ones to me after you found out you were expecting.” Slytherin gently tugged the tip of his beard, twisting it around his fingers as he tried to hide his amusement. His robes were his usual dark green but were a light, breathable cotton that suited to the warm spring weather they had been having.

Celeste frowned. She was dressed in an airy pink cotton gown, her hair was tied back into a bun, the flyaway curls that framed her face just barely within reach for the dark-haired 18-month-old in her arms. “They’re my children, too, I didn’t just want to push them out of their home…”

“My dear, it’s quite understandable. You were the same at that age, unable to behave yourself around the snakes, and you know well that husband of yours is too easily distracted by his own work to watch your little ones. Human _or_ serpent. There was no other solution to be had.” After a melancholic pause, he sighed and touched his daughter’s shoulder gently. “I promise to take excellent care of them until you’re ready to have them back in your home.”

“I know…” Celeste bit her lip, bouncing little Antioch as she eyed the crate containing her babies. “No one could care for them better than you, Father.”

“Except you, of course,” he added, a fond twinkle in his eye. “But I shall try to be a suitable substitute.” The young mother nodded, trying to fight the sting of tears in her eyes. “Here; let me hold my grandson so you can properly say goodbye.”

Celeste nodded again and passed Antioch to her father, who distracted the child by tossing him lightly into the air, a game the boy loved. Gingerly, she approached the crate of snakes.

_“Hello, darlings,”_ she hissed in their native tongue.

Many cries of _“Mama Celeste!”_ and _“Master!”_ were slithered out in response. She reached her hands out, smoothing her palms over scaled bodies large and small, venomous and constrictor, brightly colored and dull black. Normally, different species of snakes would not den together like this, but such was the nature of parsel magic that snakes could begin thinking more like their wizard counterparts.

_“Are you sure you cannot come with us?”_ asked a particularly beautiful mamba.

_“No, darlings. I’m afraid I have to raise my human babies. I’m sure you don’t want Antioch getting into your eggs any more than I do.”_

_“Certainly not!”_ A fiery little garter snake twined itself around her wrist, letting Celeste lift him up to her lips so she could kiss his head. _“The young ones must be taught, but yours learn so… slowly. I am grateful to you for making sure we are kept safe from his flailing limbs.”_

Celeste giggled a bit. _“I am sorry about that, you know.”_ She felt a general hum of understanding through the magic that connected all of them. _“Those of you that did not want to return to the wild, I’ve brought you to my father. He raised me, so you can expect a great deal of care from him.”_

_“Yes, I am excited to meet your sire once more,”_ said an older python. _“I remember when we first spoke. He was very kind.”_ Another hum of agreement was felt through the magic. Not all the snakes were personally acquainted with Salazar, but they had heard stories from Celeste and a few of the serpents he had tamed for her when she was but a girl.

_“I promise to come visit often.”_ She wiped a few tears from her cheek, reaching again to touch each of her beloved serpents.

Replies of _“Yes!”_ and _“Please do!”_ thickened the air with hissing. Celeste smiled, telling each snake goodbye before standing and going to retrieve her son.

She took a deep breath, wiping the tears from her face once more. “Alright. We’re ready,” she said softly.

“Aaaannnd down we go! There’s a brave boy!” Salazar gave Antioch a big kiss on his forehead, making the babe giggle. “Mama’s ready for you, son!”

“Come here, come here,” Celeste cooed, gathering her son close to her. “We’ll be going back home, little Antioch, but our friends will be staying with Grandfather. Alright?” Antioch stared up at her, his brown eyes wide and alert. “Say goodbye to the snakes now, okay?” She turned to wave to her snakes, her son copying her movements awkwardly. “Say ‘bye-bye’!”

_“Bye-bye!”_

Celeste froze as Salazar stared, dumbstruck. As far as they both knew, Antioch still hadn’t spoken his first words. Yet they both heard him, clear as day, in Parseltongue.

Salazar broke into a wide grin. “And here I thought he was taking after his father!” he laughed. “It seems the Slytherin blood won’t die with me, after all.”


End file.
